At this the monkey turned its other ear as if to make quite sure that it heard aright.  Nigel laughed shortly.

“But seriously, Moses,” he continued; “what do you think I should do?  Should I reveal my suspicions to Van der Kemp?”

“Cer’nly not!” answered the negro with prompt decision.  “What! wake up all his old hopes to hab ’em all dashed to bits p’raps when you find dat you’s wrong!”

“But I feel absolutely certain that I’m not wrong!” returned Nigel, excitedly.  “Consider—­there is, first, the one-eyed pirate; second, there is—­”

“’Scuse me, Massa Nadgel, dere’s no occasion to go all ober it again.  I’ll tell you what you do.”

“Well?” exclaimed Nigel, anxiously, while his companion frowned savagely under the force of the thoughts that surged through his brain.

“Here’s what you’ll do,” said Moses.

“Well?” (impatiently, as the negro paused.)

“We’re on our way home to Krakatoa.”

“Yes—­well?”

“One ob our men leabes us to-morrer—­goes to ’is home on de coast.  Kitch one ob de steamers dat’s allers due about dis time.”

“Well, what of that?”

“What ob dat! why, you’ll write a letter to your fadder.  It’ll go by de steamer to Batavia.  He gits it long before we gits home, so dere’s plenty time for ’im to take haction.”

“But what good will writing to my father do?” asked Nigel in a somewhat disappointed tone. “He can’t help us.”

“Ho yes, he can,” said Moses with a self-satisfied nod.  “See here, I’ll tell you what to write.  You begin, ’Dear fadder—­or Dearest fadder—­I’s not quite sure ob de strengt’ ob your affection.  P’raps de safest way—.”

“Oh! get on, Moses.  Never mind that.”

“Ho! it’s all bery well for you to say dat, but de ole gen’leman’ll mind it.  Hows’ever, put it as you t’ink best—­’Dear fadder, victual your ship; up anchor; hois’ de sails, an’ steer for de Cocos-Keelin’ Islands.  Go ashore; git hold ob de young ‘ooman called Kat’leen Hobbleben—­’”

“Holbein, Moses.”

“What! is she Moses too?”

“No, no! get on, man.”

“Well, ‘Dearest fadder, git a hold ob her, whateber her name is, an’ carry her off body and soul, an’ whateber else b’longs to her.  Take her to de town ob Anjer an’ wait dere for furder orders.’  Ob course for de windin’ up o’ de letter you must appeal agin to de state ob your affections, for, as—­”

“Not a bad idea,” exclaimed Nigel.  “Why, Moses, you’re a genius!  Of course I’ll have to explain a little more fully.”

“’Splain what you please,” said Moses.  “My business is to gib you de bones ob de letter; yours—­bein’ a scholar—­is to clove it wid flesh.”

“I’ll do it, Moses, at once.”

“I should like,” rejoined Moses, with a tooth-and-gum-disclosing smile, “to see your fadder when he gits dat letter!”

The picture conjured up by his vivid imagination caused the negro to give way to an explosive laugh that sent the eavesdropping monkey like a brown thunderbolt into the recesses of its native jungle, while Nigel went off to write and despatch the important letter.